


I Miss My Loverman

by thedarkestnightwillend



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, im bad at tagging sorry, immortal au, the vaguest semblance of the supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestnightwillend/pseuds/thedarkestnightwillend
Summary: "...I don’t walk here a lot though. I generally stay cooped up in my house during the winter,” Combeferre said, “I get cold often.” He added. Which was very true. He was cold then, at least.“I see.” Enjolras paused for a second before taking a breath, closing his mouth, and then saying, “This might be an odd question, but have you seen this man around, by any chance?” He held up a faded and yellowed picture of a man, in what looked like the same forest. The picture looked to be at least a few decades old, which made no sense given that Enjolras looked to be in his early twenties.Combeferre tried to recognize the man, regardless. The man in the picture was dark haired and a little disheveled; like he hadn’t slept well the night before. He was hanging off of a tree with one hand, seemingly mid-laugh. The more that Combeferre studied the picture the more he realized how out-of-date he looked. Something out of Stranger Things, maybe. Of course, some people did dress similarly nowadays. But the way the picture was yellowed at the edges made Combeferre… doubt some things.“I… no, I haven’t, sorry. Who is he?”
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 71





	1. Part One

Combeferre didn’t take walks in the woods all that often. In fact, he really hadn’t been outside in the past month given that winter had just started and it was absolutely  _ freezing _ all the time now. But he had just spent a few hours studying with very few breaks and he really needed to do something else. See, when Combeferre got going on something, especially if he  _ really _ needed it done, he didn’t stop. If he did, it was quick so that he wouldn’t lose his momentum. This was why he just spent forever studying just a few chapters on things he didn’t quite understand right for class. This was also why he was so determined to take a walk. Why have woods just across the street if no one walks in them?

Well. Forests are an entire ecosystem that countless organisms live in, but the  _ enjoyment _ is what really counts. Combeferre scoffed to himself. Who would say forests were there simply for a human being’s aesthetic pleasure? Courfeyrac, probably. But only to annoy him when he got a  _ little _ too into scientific things.

Combeferre looked around. Not being outside for a while really changed your perspective on things. When you haven’t seen things like trees or grass or ferns up close in a few weeks, you kind of forget what it feels like to be amongst other living things. Again, Courfeyrac invaded Combeferre’s thoughts. He had been planning to come over today, but had to pick up another shift at the store because someone didn’t show up for theirs. It would have been nice to see Courfeyrac, but he was content with taking a walk to relax. 

Combeferre looked down for a moment to step over a log, and in the motion of looking back up, thought he saw a flash of movement in front of him. He peered into the collection of shades of green and brown just beyond the trail, and saw nothing. He paused and settled that it was probably just a bird flitting from branch to branch. Nothing out of the ordinary. Combeferre continued to walk again. A few moments later, he again saw something out of the corner of his eye. He looked to his left, and seeing nothing, turned back to face the rest of the trail.

Standing in front of him, was a man.

“Jesus Christ!” Combeferre jumped backwards, feeling his heart leap out of his chest for a moment. “Where the hell did you come from?” He asked.

“Sorry to alarm you,” The stranger stated simply. “I never see people out in these woods during the winter season.” Combeferre nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, okay. But where did you-”

“Care to walk with me?” The man interrupted. Combeferre blinked.

“Um.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He had about thirty minutes before sunset. “Yeah, sure.” Combeferre studied the man carefully to determine any signs of danger. He didn’t look particularly threatening, just a little… off. Maybe he didn’t have many friends. The man was tall, blonde, and thin. He wore an interesting ensemble of wool and red plaid. It made him stand out in stark contrast with the earthy tones of the forest, which made Combeferre wonder further as to how he didn’t spot him before getting the shit scared out of him when the guy appeared. 

“May I ask your name?” Combeferre asked. The man nodded.

“Enjolras,” He answered bluntly. 

“Ah. French?” It wasn’t a terribly rare thing to find people of French descent in Quebec, even with incredibly French surnames. Combeferre didn’t know why he pointed it out. Anything to make conversation with a wildly close-lipped acquaintance, he supposed.

“...You could say that.” What a very vague answer to a very straightforward question. Combeferre made a sound that alluded to that thought, and moved on.

“Do you take walks in these woods often?”

“Yes. I live very close to here,” Enjolras replied.

“Oh, same! I don’t walk here a lot though. I generally stay cooped up in my house during the winter,” Combeferre said, “I get cold often.” He added. Which was very true. He was cold then, at least.

“I see.” Enjolras fell paused for a second before taking a breath, closing his mouth, and then saying, “This might be an odd question, but have you seen this man around, by any chance?” He held up a faded and yellowed picture of a man, in what looked like the same forest. The picture looked to be at least a few decades old, which made no sense given that Enjolras looked to be in his early twenties. 

Combeferre tried to recognize the man, regardless. The man in the picture was dark haired and a little disheveled; like he hadn’t slept well the night before. He was hanging off of a tree with one hand, seemingly mid-laugh. The more that Combeferre studied the picture the more he realized how out-of-date he looked. Something out of  _ Stranger Things _ , maybe. Of course, some people did dress similarly nowadays. But the way the picture was yellowed at the edges made Combeferre… doubt some things.

“I… no, I haven’t, sorry. Who is he?” Enjolras pocketed the picture after looking at it once more. Combeferre couldn’t read his expression.

“A friend.” 

“Ah. Well,” He glanced at his phone again, thoroughly spooked by that entire interaction, “I think I need to get going. It was very nice to meet you.” Combeferre turned to leave, and turned back again.

“I hope you find your friend,” He added it sincerely. The corners of Enjolras’s mouth barely turned up, and Combeferre turned again to walk out of the woods and back towards his dorm. 

Who the hell was that guy?

<<<>>>

Enjolras watched the man walk back towards the start of the trail and in the direction of the campus. He hadn’t set foot outside of these woods in a few days, much less the campus. That, that had been years. He couldn’t bear to look at it.

Enjolras took the picture from its usual place in his pocket again. It had become a habit in the past few years. The picture stayed in the right side pocket of his coat, so it was always at hand. Enjolras kept a piece of Him at all times. 

Enjolras wished he knew where He went. Enjolras wished they had more time, he wished that he could tell Him so many things, that maybe would have convinced Him to stay. All he had were memories, now. 

Enjolras walked back through the forest, to wherever he wanted. He had a home, but he didn’t want to return just yet. Maybe he could find Him tonight. 

He told himself that every night. It was starting to get old.

<<<>>>

Enjolras had the same dream every night, about the same thing. It had repeated for weeks now. Before that, he wasn’t sure what he had dreamed about. Did he even dream then? Probably not. He couldn’t remember them anyway, he had a horrible memory for that type of thing. 

The dream went like this: Enjolras would walk through the woods by campus, and after a while he would see something in the bushes, and in the corner of his eye. It would always turn out to be Him. Always. Never a deer, nor a rabbit or bird. 

They would greet each other, and they would walk for a while and have  _ fun,  _ and then Enjolras would turn around to pick a flower. The flower was white, plain, and boring. But it was always the same flower. Enjolras would turn around, and He would be gone. No footprints, nothing. He would disappear out of thin air.

And every time, Enjolras woke up crying.

<<<>>>

Combeferre had just finished making mac and cheese (Courfeyrac had texted him to eat something. Sometimes Combeferre wondered if he could read minds) when a thought popped into his head. This was not unusual, as thoughts frequently entered Combeferre’s mind. He was an intelligent person. However, the contents of this thought were interesting, to say the least. 

Would the name Enjolras turn up anything on Google? 

Combeferre served himself a bowl of box mac and cheese and sat down at his desk. He opened his laptop. 

Most people have  _ some _ traces online. Even if they haven’t been in local news, or whatever. People have social media. And if they don’t, their friends do. Almost expectedly, the name Enjolras turned up nothing for social media, however quite  _ un _ expectedly, a news article does. 

A digital copy of a news article from 1987. 

“Enjolras, who the hell are you?” Combeferre whispered to himself, clicking on the link to the article. 

_ Last Tuesday, 21 year old Anthony Enjolras went missing, along with fellow student, 23 year old Julian Grantaire… _

Combeferre scrolled to see two pictures. Of course, very grainy, but still pictures. One blonde, tall young man, and another dark haired, disheveled looking companion. 

Combeferre stared at his laptop screen. He was completely unaware of anything surrounding him. He was only focused on the information laid out in front of him, and the interesting mystery that was Anthony Enjolras. 

He picked up his phone, and called Courfeyrac. He answered on the third ring.

“Hey, Ferre, what’s up?”

“Boy, do I have a story for you.” 


	2. Part Two

“Okay, so,” Courfeyrac started, “You met this guy in the woods. He asked if you knew a guy in a picture. And now you think he’s a vampire?” Combeferre scoffed. They called last night so Combeferre could explain the situation. Courfeyrac decided it was too interesting of a thing to only discuss on the phone, and went over as soon as he possibly could the next day.

“There’s more to it, but yes. Basically.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

“I know that you’re supposed to be the smart one here--”

“You’re smart too!” Combeferre didn’t like it when Courfeyrac did this. There was no  _ smart one _ in their relationship. They both were equally intelligent. 

“Sure.” Combeferre crossed his arms. “So the picture was from like, the eighties, yeah?” Courfeyrac confirmed. “Like the guy in it had like, denim-on-denim and weird hair.” 

“Well, it was a colorblock jacket, but you get the idea.”

“Oh, thank God, the guy had a fashion sense.” Courfeyrac continued, “So you found them in a news article on Google from 1987. And it stated that they went  _ missing? _ ” Combeferre nodded. 

“Yes. And so I pulled a Bella Swan--”

“Please don’t reference  _ Twilight. _ ” Courfeyrac cringed.

“I’m referencing  _ Twilight _ .” Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out. “So I pulled a Bella Swan and went to digging, and just like our dear friend Bella, I concluded that Enjolras is a vampire.” Courfeyrac tipped his face into his hands.

“Blondie?” 

“Enjolras.” 

“Blondie.” Courfeyrac sighed. “Okay, I need to meet this guy. We’re going on a walk.” He reached over to grab his jacket. 

“I...Okay. Sure.” 

<<<>>>

“Oh, dear Enjolras!” Courfeyrac called out  _ much _ too loud for the middle of the woods. 

“Shhh!” Combeferre looked around. He was in the same place that he had originally met Enjolras yesterday. Combeferre turned to look behind him, wondering if Enjolras had maybe taken the same route they did. He was promptly given a heart attack when, indeed, Enjolras was standing a few feet behind them.

“Hello again,” He greeted. Courfeyrac jumped at the sound of his voice, though already looking at him.

“Jeez, dude, do you make  _ any _ sound? At all?” Combeferre asked. Enjolras shook his head. 

“Not really.” Courfeyrac nodded slowly. This caught Enjolras’s attention as he realized he hadn’t seen him before. “And you are…?” 

“Courfeyrac. Nice to meet you,” He put out his hand, just before adding, “Anthony.” Enjolras’s eyes went wide.

“Where did you get that name?” He asked in a hushed and intensely serious tone. Courfeyrac was expecting a reaction, but definitely not this. He was thinking a sort of  _ ‘Oh, you found the internet article! Yeah, I’m a vampire! Wild, right?’  _ and not  _ ‘I will actually murder you if you don’t tell me where you heard my real name.’ _ Courfeyrac did love some drama, though. So, he popped the collar of his jacket, crossed his arms, and looked mysteriously at the ground.

“Oh, you know,  _ around.” _ Combeferre watched in extreme secondhand embarrassment as his boyfriend tried his absolute best.

“Hi, sorry, Courfeyrac doesn’t know how to talk to people normally.” He jabbed his elbow into Courfeyrac’s side, ignoring the ensuing  _ ‘Hey!’ _ that came with it. “I did some googling, trying to, um--” He gestured vaguely at Enjolras. “--find your guy in the picture, and a news article showed up with your name in it? Or, what I assume is your name, of course, you only gave me your  _ last _ name, and--” 

“A news article?” Enjolras asked. Both Combeferre and Courfeyrac nodded. “From when?” 

“...1987,” Courfeyrac replied. “It said how you and this guy Julian went missing, or something.”

“Don’t say that name!” Enjolras snapped. “Sorry.” He cursed, and looked around, seemingly to see if anyone was coming up the trail. Doubtful, as it was probably below forty degrees outside.

“Dude, you good?” Courfeyrac asked. Enjolras nodded quickly.

“I… yeah, I’m fine.” Combeferre looked to his boyfriend. They both knew what to ask.

“In that case, I have a question,” Combeferre started. Enjolras looked up from his staredown with the dirt. “Are you, like, a vampire or something?” Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

“What?” Courfeyrac elaborated.

“Because, well, if you went missing in 1987, and you  _ don’t  _ look like you’re in your mid-fifties? You have to be a vampire, right?” Enjolras blinked at him.

“I...I don’t know what I am.” Courfeyrac blinked back.

“Wow, yeah, same. But are you a vampire or not?” He asked.

“No, I’m not a vampire. The only thing me and vampires have in common is living for a long time.” 

“Oh. My. God.” Courfeyrac clapped his hands.

“So you're like, immortal? Is… Julian like that too?”

“Sure. You could say that,” Enjolras said. “I mean. I don’t know, we were both born in the sixties. I guess I’ll know for sure when we pass like, a few hundred years without dying.” He shrugged.

“So who’s Julian?” Combeferre asked. Enjolras cringed.

“Um, again, a friend.” Enjolras added, “Call him Grantaire.” Combeferre nodded. 

“Where is he?” Enjolras shrugged. 

“Haven’t known since 1987. There’s a reason I showed you that picture.” Enjolras shoved his hands in his pockets. “Um, I better get going.” He waved awkwardly, and turned back towards the start of the trail.

“Nice to meet you!” Courfeyrac called out, but Enjolras didn’t answer. Courfeyrac looked to Combeferre immediately.

“We have to find Grantaire!” he tugged on his boyfriend’s sleeve. “We have to!"

“No, we’re not meddling in his business!” Combeferre answered, quietly in case Enjolras could still hear them. “We’re  _ not! _ ” Courfeyrac gestured vaguely in the direction that Enjolras went.

“But look at how  _ sad _ he is, Ferre! He obviously misses him, let’s help him!” Combeferre thought for a moment. Obviously something had gone down between the two of them. And, a long time ago. It had been at least thirty years since they had seen each other, according to Enjolras. 

“Don’t be heartless, give them their rom-com moment,” Courfeyrac added for good measure. He knew that even Combeferre couldn’t resist a good rom-com moment. 

“Goddammit,” He groaned, “Fine. But we’re going home first, I’m freezing my ass off.” 

“Good plan.” 

<<<>>>

Enjolras walked down the street as he normally did; head down, hood up, hands in his pockets, and deep in thought. This time, he thought of how that article could have possibly resurfaced. And how  _ long _ had it been up? How long had he been missing it? When it was first published… Grantaire tried his very best to get it out of the public eye. He didn’t want to be found. By anyone. Enjolras surprised himself by using his actual name. That was a first. 

If this article had come back, that meant that someone had remembered that they had gone ‘missing’. That meant that by letting the article come back, Grantaire had stopped trying to stay hidden. 

Enjolras didn’t know whether or not that thought was comforting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i updated the same day as posting. i was a little too productive today. enjoy ;)


	3. Part Three

Enjolras hadn’t slept well since 1987, and tonight was not the night that was going to change. Enjolras had just gone to sleep when a new dream started. 

Not the one from before, but different. He was in the forest again. Alone. Walking down the trail. It looked nice, but it didn’t feel nice. He walked until he came across the white flowers again. He stopped, bent down to pick them, and heard a voice come from behind him.

“Hey, Blondie.” Enjolras woke up. 

That was Grantaire’s voice.

“That was Grantaire,” Enjolras said to himself. He hadn’t heard him in  _ years _ . Even in the other dreams, when Grantaire was supposed to speak, his voice wasn’t his. It was far away, it wasn’t the same. But this time, it was overwhelmingly clear. It felt close, and warm, and  _ right _ . It had the correct rasp in it, the right tone and deepness. And Enjolras couldn’t help it. So he cried. 

He missed him.  _ So much. _

<<<>>>

“Go over the plan with me again?” Courfeyrac asked, rubbing his eyes. It was much too late to do this, but Courfeyrac was invested now.

“Repeat after me. We look for articles containing the name Julian Grantaire,” Combeferre said.

“We look for articles with the name Julian Grantaire.” He nodded.

“We collect them on this Google Doc  _ right here _ \--” He pointed to his laptop on the counter. “--and we look for connections between any of them.” 

“Articles go on Google Doc, we look for connections.” Courfeyrac crossed his arms. 

“And that’s it.” Combeferre squinted at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You look hot when you create plans.” Combeferre blushed. “I’m right!” 

“Okay  _ anyway… _ ” Combeferre changed the subject. He liked compliments, he was just bad at accepting them. “Does the plan sound good?” Courfeyrac leaned his head on his hand.

“Definitely.” He said. Combeferre blushed harder.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Courfeyrac collapsed into giggles. 

“Yes, the plan sounds great.” He kissed Combeferre’s cheek.

An hour later and still without sleep, Courfeyrac and Combeferre were still scouring the internet for  _ anything _ . And found nothing. Yet.

“Courf, don’t you have class in the morning?” Combeferre asked after a decently long silence.

“No, I only have early classes on Mondays.” He answered. Combeferre checked his phone.

“Tomorrow is Monday.” Courfeyrac looked alarmed for a second, and then waved his hand.   
  
“I’ll be fine. I have friends. I can ask for notes.” Combeferre wasn’t sure whether he should encourage that. He decided not to.

“Courf. Go back to your dorm and sleep.” He closed his laptop. 

“Nooo! One last article! I have a feeling about this one.” Courfeyrac was incredibly good at puppy-dog eyes. And Combeferre was very much  _ not _ immune to them.

“Fine. Why are you so good at convincing me to let you do things?”

“Practice, darling.” They fell into silence again until Courfeyrac nearly threw his laptop across the room.

“Jesus Christ! What?” Combeferre exclaimed.

“ _ I found an article!”  _ He answered. 

“Dude, warning next time! What does it say?” Courfeyrac cleared his throat very unnecessarily. 

“ _ Over the course of the last few weeks, strange graffiti has been popping up all over Montreal…”  _ He moved over on the couch to let Combeferre see the pictures. “ _...Police have not yet found a way to connect them to someone, beyond the avant-garde style and initials JG on every new piece.”  _ Courfeyrac scrolled down to the comments. 

“Someone mentioned the missing persons case from ‘87!” He closed his laptop and cheered. 

“People are sleeping!” 

“ _ Woo!” _ He whispered. “We did it though!” 

“Maybe. We aren’t sure that that’s him, but the fact that someone connected it to the ‘87 case makes me feel optimistic.” 

“But it  _ could _ be him.” Combeferre nodded.

“Yes. It could.” He kissed his cheek. “Now go home.” 

“Fine.”

<<<>>>

Enjolras hadn’t slept since waking up from the dream. According to his phone, that had been two hours ago. Fuck it. He was going on a walk. But not through the woods, that would hurt him more. Enjolras stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked out the door. 

Maybe he should have grabbed a jacket. Too late, he was already five minutes into his walk. 

At least the city was pretty at night. Enjolras liked the ambience of cars and streetlights. He liked the woods too, there was a reason he was always there. The city didn’t always remind him of Grantaire. 

Until he saw his face. Enjolras was walking past a window, and looked inside it out of curiosity, and in it he saw the back of Grantaire’s head. Curly dark brown hair, and the usual slump in his posture. And he was _so_ sure that it was in fact him, until the man turned around. 

Enjolras knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Especially when he was tired and prone to bad decision making.

He was thrown out of his thoughts when his phone’s text tone rang. Odd, considering he hadn’t texted anyone… ever, really. He also didn’t give out his phone number.

_ To: You _

_ \--https://orionmagazine.org/article/montreal-graffiti-artist _

_ \--hey! This is courfeyrac from earlier today, i just wanted to ask you a few questions about this graffiti artist? Does the art look familiar in any way? _

_ To: Unknown Contact _

_ \--How did you get my number? _

_ To: You _

_ \--i have my ways :) _

Enjolras wasn’t sure whether he liked that answer or not. The smiley face made it vaguely threatening.

_ To: Unknown Contact _

_ \--Let me look at the link and I’ll get back to you on that. _

Enjolras put his phone in his pocket, and kept walking. He could look at the link later, he knew what the guy was asking. Earlier that day he had stuck around in the woods for a second, he heard their entire conversation. He knew he should have been happy about the fact that they wanted to help, and that presumably, Courfeyrac had found something. But he wasn’t sure he was ready for the disappointment when it turned out to be nothing at all. 

Grantaire didn’t want to be found. He wouldn’t let some guy with a laptop and an internet connection find him in an afternoon. Or evening, rather. Even if he had let that one article slip, he still obviously wasn’t turning up anything else. 

Enjolras walked in a loop, and got through the door about a half hour after leaving. He pulled off his shoes and flopped back into his bed, pulling out his phone again to finally look at the link that what’s-his-face sent earlier. He really sucked when it came to names. 

_ Over the course of the last few weeks, strange graffiti has been popping up all over Montreal…  _

Despite the fact that that definitely sounded like something Grantaire would do, Enjolras would not allow himself to hope. He continued reading.

_...Police have not yet found a way to connect them to someone, beyond the avant-garde style and initials JG on every new piece. _

Yet again, it was very in character for Grantaire. And those  _ were  _ his initials. Enjolras shook his head, feeling the pit in his stomach deepen as he thought of him more. He scrolled farther, coming upon pictures.

Enjolras dropped his phone. The very first picture in the article, placed in downtown Montreal. A spray painted art piece of three white flowers, and the initials JG on the bottom. Enjolras checked the date of the news post. Three weeks ago.

In that moment, Enjolras finally allowed himself to hope. He texted Courfeyrac back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comment if you enjoyed!! they make my day :)
> 
> (the article link leads to nothing. sorry y'all)


	4. Part Four

_August 12th, 1987._

Enjolras ran. He ran as fast as he possibly could. Grantaire, of course, was faster. 

“Grantaire!” He shouted. “R!” His voice cracked, his lungs were burning, and his feet hurt. But he would not lose Grantaire. He couldn’t. They’d gone too far to quit now.

“Grantaire, get back here!” He shouted again. Grantaire was maybe thirty feet ahead of him, but Enjolras was no runner. He was reaching his limit. Grantaire cut from the street and into the alleyway leading into the woods. If he got in there and Enjolras couldn’t find him, he’d be gone for good. Those woods weren’t huge, but they were big enough to lose someone in.

As soon as Grantaire entered the tree cover, he went off the path. Enjolras grit his teeth. He didn’t want to lose him, but he was also sure that if he sprinted five feet more, he might drop dead.

He slowed his pace and jogged into the woods. 

“Grantaire!” Enjolras shouted between breaths. “Grantaire, come on!” Enjolras turned in the direction he went and walked as fast as possible. “You didn’t explain… what it was!” Enjolras doubled over, the pain in his side finally noticeable now that he had slowed down. He walked for a moment more, until he came upon a familiar spot. 

Grantaire sat below a tree, next to a collection of white flowers. 

“Had to choose this spot, huh?” Enjolras tried to joke to lighten the mood. It didn’t help. 

“Why’d you follow me?” Grantaire asked, ignoring the previous statement.

“Because why wouldn’t I?” Enjolras replied. Grantaire rose to his feet. “I wasn’t going to let you run off with no explanation.” 

“I gave an explanation,” He said. “You ignored it.” 

“That was _not_ an explanation! It was entirely made up!” Enjolras snapped.

“It was not!” Grantaire replied. Enjolras scoffed.

“Oh, okay. You’re going to _live forever?_ ” Enjolras asked, waiting for Grantaire to make another excuse. “You can’t _die?_ ” Grantaire didn’t answer. “I’ve met your mom, R. She’s definitely aged.” 

“ _I haven’t!_ ” Grantaire shouted. He quieted when he saw Enjolras jump. “I’ve looked the same since freshman year of uni. I know… I _know_ it sounds stupid, and I _know_ it sounds like I’m lying, but I’m not, okay?” Enjolras nodded slowly. 

“So how old are you really?”

“Twenty-three.” Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “I’m one of the young ones.” Enjolras narrowed his eyes further. “I told you it sounded stupid and that’s because it is! Or at least to you, I guess.” 

“When were you born? Sixty-four, right?” Grantaire cringed, nodding. “So you _are_ really twenty-three? You’ll just live longer than me, that’s why you need to go?” Grantaire hesitated. 

“That’s the thing…” Enjolras threw his arms into the air.

“How many _things_ are there?” He exclaimed. Grantaire took his hands in his own, and brought their faces closer. 

“One more, I’m sorry.” Grantaire had tears in his eyes. Enjolras took one hand to wipe them away. Grantaire brushed his lips over Enjolras’s knuckles. . “I think that you might be like… like me,” He said, looking towards the ground.

“What do you mean?” Enjolras tried his best to read Grantaire’s face in the dim light. “You mean I’m going to live forever too?” 

“Yes. But I’m not sure! You still look young, we haven’t had time for me to tell.”

“So do you!” Grantaire laughed joylessly.

“Trust me, Enjolras, with what I do to myself I should look much older than this.” Enjolras thought of the countless cigarettes and drinks that he’s seen Grantaire consume. He unfortunately had a point.

“Why would you need to leave if we could live together _forever?_ Isn’t that exactly what we want?” Enjolras asked, still thoroughly confused.

“Because I _know_ you, Enjolras!” He stepped back again, letting Enjolras’s hands go. “I know that the second we get it confirmed, that you really are like me, you’ll want to do something. You’ll want to let the world know, or… or find others and create some group or whatever! I’m not _ready_ for that, Enj! I’m not like you.” Tears fell freely down his cheeks now.

“So you’re just going to leave? Give up?” Grantaire shook his head.

“I’m not giving up.” 

“You are!”

“I’m _not_ giving up on you, Enjolras!” They fell into silence as Enjolras wiped his own tears away and Grantaire realized what he had just admitted. “I won’t.” He added. 

“Tell me you’ll come back, then,” Enjolras said. “ _Please._ ” Grantaire stepped forward to place a kiss on Enjolras’s cheek. 

“I love you, Enjolras.” He turned, and began to walk farther into the woods. Enjolras tried to get the words out, to return his feelings, and choked on tears. By the time that he could get it out, Grantaire was too far away to hear. Enjolras brushed his lips over his own knuckles, where Grantaire’s had just been the minute before. 

Walking ahead of him, Grantaire tried to cry as quietly as possible. He didn’t know if he’d be back. He wanted to, but he didn’t know. It all depended when he was ready, _and_ if his theory was right. It better be. Grantaire knew that he was certainly not needed enough in this world to live more than the average human. Enjolras was. He would actually change it, make it better. Grantaire couldn’t do anything like that. He could paint, he could sing, and he could fight. None of those skills could do what Enjolras could, and he didn’t care how much he disagreed.

He loved him. He loved him _a lot_ , but he couldn’t do half the amount that he could. So he’d fade into the background, while Enjolras took the spotlight. Then, when they were supposed to be gone, he could return, and they could live out the life they wanted. It wasn’t ideal. But it could work. It would work.

Grantaire turned back at a good enough distance to where Enjolras wouldn’t be able to spot him. Enjolras was nowhere to be seen. Grantaire supposed that would be good for him. The quicker that he left his mind, the better off he’d be. Enjolras couldn’t have too many things bogging him down. He’d get nowhere. Grantare turned back, and kept walking.

<<<>>>

Six days later, the missing persons article showed up. Grantaire had expected it. They both were active students, people would have noticed if one of them disappeared. Except, the article didn’t list just one of them. Grantaire gripped the edge of the newspaper as tightly as he could without ripping it. 

_Last Tuesday, 21 year old Anthony Enjolras went missing, along with fellow student, 23 year old Julian Grantaire…_

Well, _that_ wasn't part of the plan. Enjolras had almost done his job for him. Grantaire thought to himself.

If he _and_ Enjolras went missing, he wouldn't have to wait nearly as long to find him again. It would still be a while, but it would be earlier. That is, if his theory on Enjolras being like him was correct. Grantaire grit his teeth. He could work with this. If a missing persons notice was already out, people might start to try to find them. If that happened, Grantaire didn't know what could go wrong, so it was better to just... stick it out. 

The article could stay. There was no reversing it now that it had already been printed. So, until he and Enjolras were out of the public memory, he would lay low. And he would wait, and wait, and wait. It would be stressful, but he could do it.

Grantaire sighed, and looked at the newspaper still in his hand. Love made people do stupid things, but this entire situation was more than stupid. It was an utter disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😊 
> 
> (i quite literally nearly cried while writing this chapter lmao)
> 
> kudos/comment if you enjoyed!! thank you so much for reading!! <333


	5. Part Five

“ _ HE RECOGNIZED THE ART!” _ Courfeyrac shouted as he jumped onto Combeferre’s sleeping form.

“ _ How’d you get n’here! _ ” Combeferre exclaimed as an elbow went into his chest. “Ow!” 

“Sorry!” Courfeyrac readjusted so he no longer was stabbing his boyfriend with his bony arms. “I sent the article about the Montreal graffiti to Enjolras--”

“How did you get his number? I thought he was basically dead to the world.” Combeferre sat up.

“I went... searching.” Courfeyrac replied. “Anyway, I sent him the article, and he said he  _ recognized the art. _ ” 

“Did he say it was Grantaire’s art, though?” Combeferre asked. Courfeyrac hesitated.

“N...No. He just said he recognized it.” He deflated. “Shit.” 

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s  _ not  _ Grantaire! He could have just been vague, he’s kind of like that.” Combeferre quickly added, “I think. I don’t actually know him that well, but I still think you did a very good job and I’m proud of you.” Courfeyrac blushed.

“Aw.” Combeferre kissed his cheek. Courfeyrac blushed harder. “ _ Aw. _ ” 

“I think only dogs will be the only ones to hear you if your voice goes any higher.” Courfeyrac tried his best to get a higher ‘ _ Aw’ _ , much to the dismay of Combeferre’s ears.

“Oh, so you don’t support my goal to be Kristin Chenoweth?” Combeferre shook his head. “ _ Un _ believable!”

<<<>>>

Enjolras had never vandalized anything before. But, if it could help Grantaire find him, then he might have to. Enjolras shook the paint can in his hand and got to work. 

<<<>>>

Courfeyrac was in the middle of catching up on lecture notes when he got a call from Combeferre.

“What’s up?” He answered.

“Did you see the link I sent you?” Combeferre asked. “It was over email, I was on my laptop.”

“No, what is it?” It was either a National Geographic article about a new type of toad, or something regarding the Starcrossed Lovers of Canada, but either way, Courfeyrac was intrigued.

“You’re going to want to read it for yourself. Text me your reaction though!” Combeferre replied. 

“Ooh. Okay, text you then.” Courfeyrac opened his laptop.

“Adíos.” Combeferre hung up. Courfeyrac clicked on the email. The subject line was ‘I’M SCREAMING’, so he really couldn’t tell which one it was. Nat Geo, or Canada Gays? Who could tell. He tapped the link.

_ A graffiti artist went wild last night in Toronto, when six new pieces were found all around town. People have already started to speculate that these might be connected to the art pieces from a few weeks ago in Montreal, even though the artist’s initials are different… _

Courfeyrac scrolled down to see the pictures. The initials AE were sprayed on the bottom in crimson paint. He immediately called Courfeyrac.

<<<>>>

Enjolras was not an artist. Not in the traditional sense, at least. He didn’t paint, draw, or sing, but he could write and he could speak. He was a wordsmith. Which was why Enjolras was  _ incredibly  _ nervous that Grantaire wouldn’t be able to tell it was him that painted the messages. What if it didn’t even reach him? Yes, they were covered by a local news station, and there was an article circulating-- thank Courfeyrac for letting him know about that one. Enjolras was almost happy that he had his number. Maybe Grantaire would see it, maybe he wouldn’t. He couldn’t control what happened. He  _ could  _ hope, though.

He wasn’t quite sure why the news articles were calling him an artist. He wrote messages, they weren’t pretty. Maybe it was because of how vague they were? If things were vague they could often be mistaken for poetic. However, Enjolras wasn’t poetic. He was straightforward and serious. Someone once described him as mean, but he didn’t think it fit him. What was poetic, however, was his and Grantaire’s relationship.  _ Story _ , as Courfeyrac put it. It wasn’t Enjolras that made this disaster poetic, it was Grantaire. What, with his graffiti messages and beautiful flowers and dramatic decisions. 

To be fair, everything about what he just did was a dramatic decision. Maybe Enjolras had changed in the past thirty years. Well, changed back. This was definitely something the Enjolras from before would do. He committed a small _crime_ to find his love. Before Grantaire left, Enjolras was full of hope. He had wishes, and dreams, and _lived life._ Enjolras now stayed at home, slept, and walked through the same woods every day looking for a man who he hadn’t seen in thirty-something years. 

That was still a very dramatic thing to do, who was he kidding? This time, he was just feuled by sadness rather than hope. 

Hope did great things. Enjolras wished he could have felt it more often before just then. 

<<<>>>

“Are we really doing this? Why, why did you convince me to do this?” Combeferre wondered aloud. 

“Because we are  _ good friends! _ ” Courfeyrac answered.

“I don’t think Enjolras considers us friends. More like…” Comebeferre thought for a moment. “...Very Optimistic Acquaintances.” 

“At the very least  _ I’m  _ his friend.” Combeferre raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” 

“We text!” Combeferre nodded slowly. “Sometimes.”

“There we go.” Courfeyrac stuck out his tongue. Combeferre smiled. “Go over the plan again?” He asked. 

“Right. So we think that graffiti number three means that they’ll meet in the forest. Graffiti number four mentions sunsets, so we think it’ll be at dusk,” Courfeyrac thought for a second. “So we walk out to the woods right before dusk, which is in about thirty minutes, and then we just kind of… wait.”

“Yuh huh.” Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked.

“You look hot when you’re planning.” Courfeyrac blushed. It was a common occurrence between the two.

“Hey, that’s my line!” Combeferre laughed. “Grab granola bars, we don’t know when they’ll actually find each other. Or if we get lost.” 

“Yeah, how well do we know these woods?” Combeferre asked. 

“Not well. Hopefully they follow the path.” 

Combeferre opened his mouth to speak, stopped, and spoke. “This is a horribly thought out plan.” Courfeyrac gasped.

“It is  _ not! _ ” Combeferre nodded slightly. “Okay, kind of. But I believe in us.”

“Hell yeah, go us!” Combeferre cheered.

“We brought together two sad gay dudes!” Courfeyrac added, pumping his fist. “Sort of.”

“No ‘sort of’! You sent Enjolras the link to the Montreal graffiti.” Courfeyrac pumped his fist again.

“Correction: we definitely brought together two sad gay dudes!” Combeferre laughed.

<<<>>>

Enjolras tapped his foot aggressively. He had leaned against four different trees in the last fifteen minutes, switching as the lighting changed. Yes, he knew what angles he looked best in. Blame Grantaire’s old affinity for using him as a painting subject. 

Enjolras finally settled standing in the middle of the trail, so that if Grantaire walked in the other way, he’d be able to see him right away. The only downside was that he looked much less cool standing in the middle of the trail without moving. 

What was he going to do, if Grantaire did show up? What was he going to say? Since he got there, Enjolras had been rotating different things to say once Grantaire walked in. A lot of it depended if he was happy to see him. He hoped he’d be. Though, he probably wouldn’t have come if he wasn’t. 

Enjolras hadn’t prayed in forever. He was raised religious, but had sort of grown out of it. Slowly, things that happened to him disproved the idea of God in his head. The first big one was Grantaire leaving. Surely, God would have stopped that, right? 

Enjolras  _ was _ aware, however, that people could also make choices on their own  _ without _ divine intervention, so he didn’t entirely rule out that possibility. Though, Enjolras had prayed for good measure. 

“I just want to see him again.” Enjolras had said before leaving. “I don’t care if he’s not happy to see me, I just want to see that he’s still...existing.” Enjolras wasn’t actually sure if Grantaire could die. Obviously he didn’t age, but what if he could die? What if it was just much later than everyone else? 

It would be a while, if that were true. Enjolras couldn’t help but wonder, though.

Enjolras tapped his foot for about fifteen more minutes. The sun was beginning to set. Enjolras was starting to worry if Grantaire wouldn’t show.

But he had done the graffiti. He had painted the white flowers, and he had supposedly stopped trying to hide the old article. It had to be him, he had to come. Enjolras  _ had _ to see him again. 

Enjolras tapped his foot again, and again, and again. He was starting to cramp, but he didn’t care. 

Enjolras pulled out the picture from his pocket. Just as he went to look down at it again, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Hey, Blondie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> defying all logic and truly acting out of impulse i have decided to royally Fuck Up my posting schedule and post another time today,, here u go 
> 
> kudos/comment if u enjoyed they make my day!! thank u sm for reading!! <333


	6. Part Six

Enjolras looked up when he heard it. It was  _ him _ , it had to be. It was him, that was his voice. It was warm, it was right, and it was  _ him. _

He turned around.

“Grantaire.” He said, barely keeping in tears. “ _ Grantaire.” _ Grantaire smiled.

“Long time, huh?” Enjolras smiled back.

“Thirty  _ years _ too long.” Enjolras ran over and wrapped Grantaire in his arms, picking him up off the ground. He hadn’t held him this close since he left, he wasn’t letting go any time soon. He felt Grantaire put his face in the crook of his neck. 

When they parted, both were already crying. Enjolras tipped their foreheads together. 

“I’ve missed you,” Grantaire said into the little space between them.

“I missed you  _ so much _ , you have no  _ fucking _ idea—” Grantaire laughed. Enjolras pulled him into a hug again, holding him as closely as possible. They parted.

“You saw the graffiti then!” Enjolras exclaimed. He held Grantaire’s hands in between them. Even when he was physically in his presence, he didn’t want to be apart from Grantaire. He nodded. 

“You committed a minor crime for me!” Grantaire said. Enjolras laughed. “I’ve been watching the news for literal  _ years,  _ hoping that I’d see some sign that you were still here. Of course I saw it.” Enjolras tipped his head.

“Still here?” He asked. “You know I don’t like moving.”

“Well, yeah. Sure. But the articles said you’d gone missing  _ with  _ me, I didn’t know if you stayed, moved, or actually went missing.” Grantaire said. “Did you not mean to do that?” 

“Well, yes, I did. But…” Enjolras gasped. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think about that. We never confirmed your theory!” Grantaire nodded.

“Well, I guess now we did,” He replied, giving Enjolras a small up-and-down. “Don’t look a day over twenty-one, what's your secret?” Enjolras laughed.

“Neutrogena Under-eye Cream.” Grantaire threw his head back when he laughed. Enjolras missed it. 

“So. Wait.” Grantaire said after a moment. “You meant to go missing.” Enjolras nodded. “Why? You had so many goals and ideas, what happened to them?” Enjolras looked at the ground.

“I lost  _ you _ , R.” Grantaire stared at him.

“What?”

“I lost you.” Grantaire blinked. “When you left, I could barely  _ live,  _ R. I dropped out of uni. I didn’t finish any of it.” Grantaire blinked again. 

“But… You—”

“I know, my ‘aspirations’. Whatever. None of that mattered if I didn’t have you to experience it too.” 

“You… Oh my God.” Grantaire looked at the ground.

“What?” Enjolras asked. 

“I, um... I never told you why I left, right?” Enjolras shook his head. “Great, okay. Well, I left because I looked at all the things you wanted to do, and decided I would hold you down.”

“You left because…” Grantaire nodded. “Wow. We are a disaster. We are actually hopeless.” Grantaire laughed bittersweetly. “Why? Why would you ever think that?  _ How _ did you think that?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire shrugged.

“I don’t know. That’s what I was told, countless times. My skills were useless. But yours weren’t. In my eyes, you could change the world, but I would fade into obscurity. So I decided to jumpstart it rather than slow you down.” Enjolras started to cry again.

“ _ Grantaire! _ ” He pulled him into a hug again. “No! No, no no no.” Enjolras kissed his forehead. “You are talented. You are literally the best painter I’ve ever met.” Grantaire smiled. 

“Speaking of paintings…” He said. “You saw the flowers?” Enjolras nodded.

“Evidently.” He gestured vaguely to their surroundings. They fell into a comfortable silence. The silence was promptly interrupted by a pained yell from somewhere in the bushes.

“Oh my _God,_ you _guuuys!_ ” Courfeyrac emerged from off to their left. Combeferre followed slowly behind him. “That was _the_ _cutest_ thing, I am _not_ lying!” 

“Who are these people?” Grantaire asked Enjolras. 

“Friends.” Enjolras answered. Grantaire nodded slowly. Courfeyrac stuck a hand out to Grantaire as Combeferre waved awkwardly from just behind him. 

“Courfeyrac, nice to meet you! I’ve heard very limited things.” Grantaire laughed. 

“Nice to meet you too.” He looked to Combeferre, waiting for a name.

“Combeferre. I’m this dumbass’s boyfriend.” Courfeyrac dramatically gasped. “Okay, carry on, we’ll leave. He was very curious and I can’t say no sometimes.” 

“Bye guys! It was a pleasure to be overly invested in your very complicated relationship!” Courfeyrac called as they walked back towards the start of the trail.

“Dude, shut up!”

“You shut up, Mr. I-Date-A-Dumbass!” Then, piercing through the trees, was Courfeyrac’s squeal of “ _T_ _ hey got their rom-com moment!” _

“ _ Shut up!” _ The laughter faded as they got farther away.

“How the hell did you become friends with those two?” Grantaire asked.

“A series of very odd coincidences,” Enjolras answered. 

“Gotcha.” Enjolras turned back to face Grantaire.

“Please don’t say you have to go again,” He said. Grantaire shook his head, and Enjolras released a breath.

“No. I learned my lesson,” He said. “This is just one of many. Like, I tried to live in Paris back in ‘05. That was a very bad mistake.” Enjolras laughed.

“And why’s that?” 

“Because I couldn’t stand being that far away from where you might have been. I was afraid that if something turned up, I wouldn’t make it back in time.” He paused. “I worried you’d forget about me, too. But that didn’t depend on my location.” 

“I could never forget about you,” Enjolras said quietly. Grantaire smiled.

“You never left my mind, Blondie,” He said, taking Enjolras’s hand in his. Enjolras took the opportunity to tug Grantaire forward, planting a kiss onto him for the first time in a  _ very _ long while. 

He was glad to say that it still gave him butterflies. 

<<<>>>

_ December 7th, 2019. _

_ A graffiti artist went wild last night in Toronto, when six new pieces were found all around town. People have already started to speculate that these might be connected to the art pieces from a few weeks ago in Montreal, even though the artist’s initials are different.  _

_ The messages seem to be in some order. Of course, we do not know who this person— or people— is, so we cannot confirm nor deny whether this is correct. But, this is what we and our writers think the order may be. _

_ I’ve missed you. _

_ But I have two questions: _

_ Is it too much to ask for one more sunset? _

_ You painted flowers, too. Can we see those again? _

_ Oh, and one last thing. _

_ I love you too. _

_ -AE _

<<<>>>

“Why was it white flowers?” Courfeyrac asked one day, when he and Combeferre had time to sit outside together. 

“Hm?” Combeferre replied, deep in thought.

“Enjolras and Grantaire,” Courfeyrac said. “What was it with them and white flowers? It was in both of their graffiti things.” 

“I dunno. Maybe it was an inside joke?” Combeferre shrugged. 

“I don’t really think Enjolras is the type of person to have inside jokes,” Courfeyrac said. 

“Valid point.”

<<<>>>

_ July 11th, 1987. _

“How long are we going to walk for?” Enjolras asked. 

“Not much, be patient!” Grantaire answered. Enjolras groaned. He wasn’t great when it came to cardio for long distances. Especially when it was in the woods at night. They got spooky.

“What are you even showing me?” 

“Something! Stop asking, you’re going to spoil the surprise.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. He looked annoyed, but on the inside he was incredibly nervous. Grantaire had spared the majority of the details for the little excursion in the forest. All he told him was to “put shoes on, we’re going for a walk.” 

After a few more minutes of walking, Grantaire stopped. 

“Walk out a few more feet and look up,” He said. They had stopped right before a clearing, so the trees stopped covering the sky. Enjolras did as he was told, and looked up.

It was a full moon, right above his head. It looked ginormous, from where he was standing. Like he could reach out and touch it. 

“Grantaire, are you sure you don’t want to see this too, it’s—” Enjolras stopped when he saw that he was smiling at him. “What?” He asked, wary of whatever Grantaire had planned.

Grantaire took his hands from behind his back to reveal three small white flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FINALE! thank u guys so much for reading!!! this fic is lowkey my baby now i love it i cherish it and i want it to grow big and strong lmaooo
> 
> kudos/comments make my day!! love u all!! <33

**Author's Note:**

> i very nearly named this My Immortal for the laughs. (thank me later).
> 
> (i don't think this title is that much better... but i was in a ricky montgomery mood)
> 
> comment/kudos if you enjoyed!! they make my day! find me on tumblr @/the-gayest-eponine :D


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